Dominion The Bryn'adûl | Decimation of Jablim

[Primarch Drek'ma]

Objective: Elite Forces
Post: Nine
Tags: Tathra Khaeus

When the man fell to the side, he turned to the Tathra. Eyes darting between the disfigured bodies of the slain commandoes. Drek'ma felt a measure of pride when fighting alongside the Chieftain were was bereft of when beside any other.

"Sire, I have received reports from our beast masters ahead. The battle is ours." The confident smirk was fresh on his face.

Drek'ma knelt down, a symbolic gesture that the world now belonged to him. Jablim was now theirs, and there was nothing their enemies could do to stop them. Soon enough, more worlds would follow in their wake.

 

[Galak]

Objective: Warfare
Post: Eleven
Tags: N/A

The battle had been arduous, but it was won. The remnant Concord defenders of Jablim had been of hardy stock, fighting for every inch smattered in blood. But, ultimately they had won. With the support of their super-commandos crippled, the Concord infantry were decimated by the combined forces of the Bryn'adûl.

But it didn't sate Galak, he wanted more. They had taken General Keldothera, and he had a hunch more deaths were in store for the Bryn before this war with the Silver Jedi was over. A fact that was weary on his heart, but one he also knew to accept. The Warlord felt the rush of the ash and soot beneath his feet as a Gunboat lowered to pick him up.

He had places to be, planets to burn. As Warlord, he also had his own planets to govern - but he was more of a warring Warlord than a political or diplomatic one. He was fine with that, there was plenty of warring to do. Galak placed the Carbine on his back, making his way aboard the Gunboat to return to the Divine Brutality.

He was ready to move on to the next.

 

[Quoron Ver'dum]

Objective: Warfare
Post: Six
Tag: Galak

The battle lasted maybe an hour longer, Quoron couldn't tell. But what he did know was that his arms hurt, shoulders aching from carrying the same crippler for so long. When he returned to the Gunboat, there was fewer of them than before. Some stared long and hard ahead, shell-shocked from the sheer gore of war.

They had all experienced their childish skirmishes on their home planet but the war of a planetary scale was another beast entirely. But as ugly as it was they all understood that it was a necessary sacrifice of personal comfort. To achieve a greater, strengthened Galaxy. The Drael knew that, and in time they would come to know it too. They would have to, many battles lay ahead.

He chose to sit down next to one of the unnerved Vandals, placing his Crippler into a equipment slot on the side of his seat as he turned to his fellow Vaydralen. Words were of no use, he could not comfort him for what he may or may not have seen. He placed a hand on the warriors shoulder, nodding to him.

Though at the very least he could let him know he wasn't alone. The battle was done.